The Roles We Play

[Kronos]

The air in Bhaal was tinted with sulfur, not a rare occurrence for the location. On occasion, great plumes of the stuff would erupt into the air, making Bhaal smell like the inside of the caldera for weeks, until the dust settled. The sky above glowed hazy red, tinted with black clouds that threatened to pour down yellow, surfer tinted rain upon the city. A rain that stained clay roofs and left long yellow stains in the streets. Strong winds blew through the city, carrying strange fumes from the caldera. Barely any animal life survived in these harsh conditions, but the human population here managed to thrive. The citizens of Bhaal were a hardy bunch, making a living off a blasted land, and sometimes getting quite rich when they struck diamonds or rare metals in the mines.

Bhaal is a city of great wealth and, great poverty. In the lower districts of the city, where the poverty-stricken eked out a living, shabbily built clay huts and winding roads formed a dense urban network, the likes of which never appear in better off cities. But in the wealthy districts, huge palatial manors and the great palace of Balthazar crown the skyline, bringing a sense of wonder and awe to travelers. Currently, the sun is cutting through the black clouds, and casting a massive shadow on the Lower Districts as it's light is intercepted by the palatial constructions.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Balthazar, Fifth Emperor of the City of Bhaal, sat in his jewel encrusted throne, surveying the mob of advisers and nobles clustered at the far end of the room. The throne... you noticed it before you even thought about the king's presence. Three tons of obsidian masterfully crafted, and encrusted with several hundred pounds of jewels and gold, and finished off by an inlaid ruby the size of a dinner plate, it was the coup de grâce of Bhaalesean craftsmanship. It was radiant. The king, dressed in a gilt crimson robe and the modest gold grown of the First Emperor, was outshone by his own throne. But the king never wanted to be noticed, did he?

Tapping his fingers idly on the gilt obsidian edges of his throne, he thought over the situation at hand. The aforementioned mob was made of forge owners and metallurgists, and alchemists, and mining foremen, and other who profit from a war. They wanted a war. Finally, a member of the crowd, dressed in black smeared clothing, stepped forward. He bowed deeply as he approached the imperial throne, and stood back up with vigor. His face was an expression of hope, and possibly, just possibly, greed.

In a harsh, uncouth accent, he said. "Lord Emperor, it comes to our attention that... Ahem... certain elements in the outside world have been 'challenging' the status quo. They may just be barbarian leaders, but they pose a threat to our stability... and... our exports. With a strong government controlling the Northlands, there will be no need for our metals in the world.

The emperor nodded at the man's plea, and waved his hand dismissively. Two guards, dressed in the black plate regalia of the Imperial Defenders, stepped from far corners of the room, and moved with haste towards the miner. The miner edged backwards, looking frantically at his comrades, and then back at the Emperor. The guards seized him by the arms, and dragged him out of the room with considerable force. He wouldn't be hurt, oh no, he would simply be kicked from the palace doors. As he was dragged away, the miner yelled one last suggestion to the Emperor. "Consider what I said!"

The Emperor grinned, and yelled. "Next?"

[OOC :: Yes, it's short.]